


bad things happen (ninjago)

by 6kuro



Category: Lego Ninjago, Ninjago - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst/Hurt, Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-13 13:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6kuro/pseuds/6kuro
Summary: im doing one of those bad things happen bingos! dont expect like..anything happy out of this fic, its going to be pretty distressing most of the time





	1. hypothermia - kai

**Author's Note:**

> this writing was heavily inspired by this comic that paperbooart made: https://paperbooart.tumblr.com/post/173526119786/after-zane-died-there-was-a-blizzard-and-it-felt
> 
> i took some creative liberities but when trying to think of a situation in which kai would get hypothermia this came to mind

Kai had never seen snow before he became a ninja.  
  
The village he'd grown up in had consistently warm, humid temperatures, ideal for farming. The coldest it got was barely below 60 degrees. But going on missions came with the opportunity to see a lot more of the world. He witnessed snow in small amounts at Jamanakai Village's high altitude, and thin layers of it on massive glaciers when they searched for the Shurikens of Ice.  
  
The most abundant amount of snow he'd seen was in Birchwood Forest. But even then, the earth was only covered by a few inches of it. It'd been cold enough for him to see the heat of his own breath, but no snow fell, as if the entire forest was frozen in time.  
  
It was a stark contrast from the howling winds that pelted every side of him presently. He clenched his jaw in attempt to ease his chattering teeth. But his skull only rattled with pain as his they continued to shiver furiously alongside the rest of his body.  
  
_"Kai!"_  
  
A shaky inhale. A shaky exhale. A shaky inhale. A shaky exhale. Between every breathe he trudged another step forward. The only feeling in his feet was the freezing water seeping through his sneakers.  
  
_ "Where are you going?"_  
  
He didn't know. After stumbling when he tried to take another step, he lifted his head and screwed up his eyes. He couldn't see anything except for white. But he could _feel _it.  
  
Lifting his legs was useless. His knees buckled and pushed into the snow. His arms had portruded from his body defiantly before, but now they returned to his chest to shawl himself. He heated up his hands as much he could without setting them alight.  
  
The longer he stood there, the weaker his limbs seemed to become. The wind tugged at his t-shirt, as if urging him to keep going in any direction at all.  
  
Shivering suddenly took control of his body again, and he summoned all the power he had to stand up straight. His skin felt as if it was _burning_. This was a sensation Kai rarely experienced. Maybe it was his elemental powers sending a final surge of strength through him? An instinctive defense mechanism against the cold?  
  
"What are you doing out here?"  
  
Just as this scene was different from the Birchwood Forest, it heavily contrasted with the snowfall at Zane's funeral. The flakes there had been slow and steady, nearly suspended in air. They settled onto the ground one after the other, as if they had found peace with the world after living such an eventful life.  
  
The flakes here remained in the air in a tumultuous whirlwhind, fighting to stay frozen for as long as possible. Crowds of them stormed through the air in all directions, demanding to maintain their aloft state.  
  
Zane had died much differently than he had lived- he lived in serenity, with a leveled head and peaceful nature. His death had been an explosion.  
  
"Kai?"  
  
The white darkened into a pitch black, and Kai honed in on the crunch of the snow as he sank, the screaming wind becoming background noise.  
  
The fight to survive was painfully familiar.


	2. denied food as punishment - cole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i looped Say, Can You hear by Men I Trust while writing most of this. the lyrics fit well, but the genius lyrics explainantion kind of adds a meaning to the song i didnt see at first, so if you want my interpretation i can happily answer
> 
> cw for child abuse

Cole stood alone at the bottom of the stage. He nervously watched families reunite after a long performance. Parents stooped down into hugs to congratulate their children, and then led them away with comforting hands on their shoulders. He knew not to get his hopes up by now, but still, they became diminished by his father's silent approach and the silent walk outside.

The car started up, and their ride home began with a heavy sigh from his father. "That was horribly subpar. You missed a cue at the end. And you were off tempo. You need to be lighter on your feet."

When Cole didn't respond right away, his father twisted in his seat. "Do you hear me?"

Cole forced himself to meet his father's eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time."

His father turned back around at a green light. He sighed again. "I should hope so."

They pulled up to their house, where the block was lined with glowing streetlamps. The days got dark quickly this time of year, and people rushed home to escape the weather that was getting colder and colder. Cole's stomach growled as they entered the kitchen. He hadn't eaten since morning, lunchtime having been replaced by final rehearsals.

"Are we going to have dinner?" he asked.   
  
He regretted the question almost instantly. His father's voice was notched with ire. "I thought you understood when I said you needed to be lighter on your feet."

Cole blinked. Oh.

"You get it from your mother- nothing some regulation and extra practice won't fix."

Cole nodded dumbly, and his father continued to hang up their jackets. His father proceeded to stand by the kitchen window, hands folded behind his back. Cole could tell he was lost in thought about something, and not going to ask anything else of Cole, so he went upstairs to his room.

Usually Cole's evening was spent practicing, but his father didn't make him do so right after a show. He got started on his homework, having plenty of it for winter break. That kept him occupied for about an hour, until he heard the door open, and a few other voices alongside his father's. 

"Remember that your bedtime is at nine," his father came upstairs to inform him. "And clean the kitchen while I'm gone, once you're done with your homework."

"Okay," Cole replied. "Bye."

Laughter ushered his father and his friends out of the house. Cole finished up a sheet of homework and went downstairs to clean the kitchen. He unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, and moved onto wiping down the counters. His stomach growled loudly, which was what put an idea into head. 

Cole had gone behind his father's back before, and even lied to his face a few times. Usually it was to avoid dance practice, claiming he'd done some while his father was out. He was pretty sure he could easily eat some cereal without his father noticing.

The risk of his father noticing however, made him lose his appetite. Besides, the sooner he lost weight and improved his dancing, the sooner he could eat more. He retreated to his room, ignoring his stomach's protests.

It was enough past eight for him to get ready for bed, so he took a bath and changed into pajamas. He wasn't planning on sleeping just yet though. He climbed under his blankets with a flashlight and notebook. The house was dark and quiet as he drew whatever came to mind, ears wide open. He jumped at the slightest of sounds, and clicked off his flashlight and put his head on the pillow that hid his notebook often. Every time his heart beat hard enough to pound a hole in his chest.

He didn't actually attempt to sleep until the flashlight's bulb dimmed. He must have forgotten to renew the batteries. He stuffed the notebook and mentioned light source under his pillow for the last time that night. It took a few minutes for his mind to settle, but even as his body grew weary, he couldn't sleep.

He grabbed a fistful of cloth near his stomach. As if that could quench the gnawing pain it felt. He tried to recall if he heard the door open, or the creak of stairs yet. Another loud complaint from his stomach urged him to pay that no mind. He lay there for a few more minutes, listening to see if the coast was clear.

Then he clambered out of bed to slip on some socks; they would help mute the creaking of his feet. He crept down the hallway, glancing at his father's room. The door was shut. Either his father had gone to bed, or never come home. He made his way down the stairs, to the living room. The kitchen was dark, its only illumination being the window and a small light on the fridge. He didn't notice a misshapen form on a chair until he was in the doorway.

What he assumed to be his father was slumped over the kitchen table, unmoving. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Cole's father to get home at such a late hour. It was unusual however, for him to be in this state, not laughing or stumbling upstairs into bed.

The lump moved, and a head and pair of shoulders morphed out of it, causing Cole to take a step back.

"Cole?"

"I was just getting water," Cole whispered. "I'll...I'll go back to bed."

"Come here Cole."

Cole didn't move at first. His father only told him to come near him when he was angry- but he didn't sound angry right now. His voice was low, similar to his disappointed tone, though it lacked the usual harsh edge.

Cole complied and sidled over to his father. He gasped sharply when his father pulled him into a tight hug. Cole wasn't sure what to do with hands, first hovering them over his father's shoulders, then slowly lowering them onto his shoulder blades.

Cole felt his father's chin quiver, and hot water dripped onto the collar of his shirt. His breath smelled acidic.

"I love you son," his father said through an otherwise wordless sob. "Do you love me?"

Cole had forever longed to hear those words- that exact phrase. Not "I do this because I love you" or "this is for your own good". With every performance, every dance practice, he hoped to earn not praise, but a genuine expression of love afterward.

But as he responded, "I love you too, dad." he began to empathize with his father's tendency to exercise the phrase as little as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coles dad is trash but i do think theres some depth to him if you think about coles mom  
i also barely proofread this so thats why it lowkey sucks :flushed:


	3. nightmares - pixal/zane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theres themes of ptsd and mental illness here, so be warned
> 
> pixane if you squint? theyre not really lovey at all but i might just put the tag in for clout lol idk

It was unusually cold. Not unusual because of the location, which was a myriad of ice walls and paths, rather because even the coldest of temperatures rarely phased Zane. The cold sent shivers down his spine as he ran through the ice maze. Reflections passed by, but they weren't his.  
  
They were his friends, but more wrinkled, and with duller, thinner hair. Zane couldn't uncover any emotions hidden by their solemn faces. He was running too fast.  
  
A looming wall of ice jerked him into a halt. It was clean cut and reflected him perfectly. He leaned in closer, sucking in every facial feature sculpted out of dark flesh, and every strand of white hair. They were his...but his eyes...they were green.   
  
No, they were red.  
  
Everything was red. Like the neon of attention demanding sirens, that were wailing at him to _run_.  
  
He tried, but kept on slipping on the smooth ice. The walls groaned as they closed in on him, and she bashed her elbows and knees against the ground everytime she tried to keep running. They couldn't see their reflection- it was a blur of struggling movement. Who were they?  
  
A man wearing all black was in the ice beneath her. Half of his face wasn't human though, it was metal and wired with a red eye. Other people were scattered further down.  
  
They were his friends again, younger than they were right now, and much younger than their reflections. These weren't reflections. His friends' were lodged in the ice, eyes wide and dead, with gaping jaws. He didn't even realize he'd been clawing and thumping at the ice. They screamed louder than the sirens.  
  
The ice gave away with a deafening crunch, and she fell, watching their friends rise above her. She was drowning in a shimmering sludge, coated with blinking ones and zeroes. Trying to swim up rotated them into a fetal position, and everything went dark.  
  
Until Zane's eyes jolted open, and the wall was lit up by the fluorescent blue of his eyes. He'd awoken in the fetal position and immediately unfurled himself.  
  
"Another nightmare?" Pixal asked.  
  
Zane sat up and blinked, pulling Pixal's avatars as well as a few other monitors into his vision. They weren't necessary for him to function, but her appearance brought him comfort. Even if they didn't have his usual processing power through his fear.  
  
"Yes," he hummed, incapable of sighing. "I'll be alright."  
  
Zane scanned the bedroom in which his friends slept. Nya had moved in after the recent rebuilding of the bounty, since none of the ninja really cared about whatever sexes they were given at birth. Their chests rose and fell steadily. Each of them were safely tucked under however many blankets they preferred.  
  
He got out of bed to go outside, careful not to wake any of them up. The Bounty was nestled safely on a cliff's outcropping. It was as still as the rest of the night. This far out from the city, a massive amount of stars shone brilliantly. Yet they couldn't scale down the overwhelming expanse of the night sky.  
  
Zane leaned on the Bounty's rail. If they were lower to the ground, he might have been able to hear the chirping of crickets, or other nocturnal sounds. Instead it was quiet.  
  
"You have sunrise training tomorrow," Pixal broke the silence.  
  
"I am aware."  
  
The silence returned momentarily. Then it was broken again. "You cannot avoid your nightmares forever, Zane."  
  
Zane hummed deeply. "You know me too well."  
  
"That comes with being in your head," Pixal quipped. The silence returned, this time with heavier undertones. A scene from his nightmare slipped back into his mind, his friends' bodies trapped in ice, with their wide eyes portraying utter terror, despite their lifelessness.  
  
He wished he could do breathing exercises, or calm himself with a specific texture at times like these. Like when Lloyd had his possession nightmares, and Kai taught him to take deep, rythmic breaths. Or when Cole's corporeal form began to fade, and he touched a familiar or comforting texture to ground himself. Zane's new sensors could only feel the weight of objects.  
  
"Would you like to talk about your trauma?" Pixal's question was sudden.  
  
"My trauma?"   
  
"Your nightmares- the root of them is your trauma surrounding the Overlord."  
  
"My nightmares are not- I don't..." Zane now had one hand on the railing, the rest of his body separated from it. "I do not have trauma Pixal."  
  
"Yes you do."  
  
"Pixal..."  
  
She cut him off with a scoff. "I was avoiding the medical term- posttraumatic stress disorder. I knew you would dismiss the idea. But what else would you call it? You experience its symptoms on a regular basis Zane."  
  
"I am not capable of mental illness Pixal. I am not human."  
  
"But your father built you to learn and develop as a human does," Pixal rebounded. "You may not have a human brain, but how else could this be happening? If you did not experience life as a human did, your mechanics would not allow-"  
  
"But this_ is not the body my father built me_," Zane ripped his hand away from the railing, and curled it into a titanium fist. He stared coldly at the wires and gears bundled in between in each joint. He didn't draw his attention from them until he noticed Pixal's prolonged pause.  
  
She looked not pitiful, but sympathetic. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't intend to upset you."  
  
"I am not upset."  
  
She closed her eyes, shoulders rising, and then releasing. "Yes, you are. It's okay to be upset."  
  
Another moment of silence passed.  
  
"You may have a titanium exterior now," Pixal was soft spoken. "But your heart, and mind, are the same as your father built you. You have the same memories that make you who you are. You taught me so much about being human."  
  
"But I did not remember him when I first got this...vessel," he murmured. "I could barely remember anything from...before I died. _That was all I could remember._" How Zane wished he could cry. How he wished to shed watery tears, and a nose full of snot, and have red, irritated eyes afterward.  
  
Pixal seemed to be selecting her next words carefully. She had an expansive vocabulary, but she was still learning how to socialize secondhand from Zane.  
  
She spoke, "That is another symptom of PTSD. Memories before the traumatic event become muddled, or hard to grasp."  
  
Pixal always turned back to evidence and logic.  
  
"It's silly," Zane muttered. "That my memories and emotions could...affect me this much."  
  
"I felt the same way for a long time- about it being silly. Often times, I still do. I always thought humans were illogical. Jay and Cole fighting, Garmadon vowing off fighting for the sake of his morals...I even found my father's insistence to make the world a better place futile occasionally."  
  
"What changed?"  
  
"You. My father. Losing you, and my father. The tragedy outweighed the good at first, but I learned to value the relationships I had. I know you have a few of those to value yourself. You died protecting them, after all."  
  
Zane's heart swelled at the thought of his friends. He supposed all of their mental health issues weren't silly.  
  
"I theorize that the nightmare was not caused by my trauma alone, Pixal," Zane said.  
  
She took the moment of silence that followed to process his words. "I know. I will admit, part of the reason I am encouraging for you to work through your trauma is for my own sake. It's hard to do without my own body."  
  
"I believe we can acquire a body for you eventually," Zane mused. "I'm sure you'd like to talk to your father on your own. The rest of the ninja are worth getting to know as well, despite what you think."  
  
"What are you implying?"  
  
"I notice when you roll your eyes at Jay! And if you're going to get along with Kai, you'll need to tell him off in a less degrading manner."  
  
She shook her head, but he saw her eyes flicker with laughter. "You never answered my question."  
  
He racked his memory to remember what she was referring to. He nodded, and made himself comfortable on the railing again. "I'd like to talk about it. That goes for you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of the ninja are neurodivergent, sorry i dont make the rules


	4. cry into chest - nya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> season 10 spoiler warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im actually quite proud of this chapter, so please lemme know what yall think
> 
> tw for graphic description of bruises

There was no time to grieve when Cole fell. Kai had to forge the golden weapons, out of the golden armor, and it wouldn't be long before the Oni began their attack. Their time spent waiting for Kai to finish the weapons, was spent training, or watching him.  
  
"The..." Kai had held up the final weapon, and it'd glinted in the firelight. He lowered it. "The Scythe of Quakes." His face dripped with sweat, and Nya could see his shoulders sag.  
  
A lump rose in her throat as he extended the scythe towards her. "Here," Kai said. "Somebody needs to use it."  
  
The scythe felt too big for her hands, and she couldn't curl her fingers around it comfortably. She stared at its massive blade.  
  
"But I don't know how to use a scythe," she looked up at Kai.  
  
His lips were pursed. "I think he'd want you to have it."  
  
So she had carried its weight onto the battlefield, in addition with the heavier weight of Cole's absence.  
  
Cole's survival had been a miracle. He'd fallen multiple stories, into a fog that should have left him immobile. Which is why when he emerged out of the earth in his drill, Nya thought maybe she had died too, and was living a coma, or some insane dream. But it was no dream- he was alive. It turned out that much like Kai's resistance to extreme heat, and Jay's immunity to lightning, Cole's Earth powers granted him the ability to withstand even the strongest of blows.  
  
Him reclaiming the scythe brought her immense relief. Relief that she could make better use of her fighting skills.  
  
Relief that she hadn't killed him.  
  
After the thrill of using the Tornado of Creation, and the scare of losing Lloyd, and the realization that they'd won dawned on them, they celebrated. The ninja added another illustration to the mural, along with their handprints in their respective colors, unified in a circle.  
  
The ordeal was well earned, but a little voice in the back of her mind nagged Nya that something wasn't right.  
  
Cole had fought just fine, but Nya took notice of his grimacing when he moved his arms, or twisted in a certain way. She persuaded him to let her give him a quick checkup. Not being a main part of the team during its early years put her in the position of the team's nurse.  
  
"Seriously Nya, I'm fine," Cole sat down on the medical cot. "I'm looking forward to relaxing after this whole mess."  
  
"I'm not taking any chances," Nya sat down next to him. "Now take off your gi so I can get a good look at you."  
  
"You weren't lying when you said you were a lesbian, right?" Cole joked, but began to slip off his top. Nya rolled her eyes.  
  
She shouldn't have been surprised at what Cole's undressing revealed- fire couldn't hurt Kai, but he still had a few large burn marks from his neck to his waist. Jay had only ever shocked himself badly once, but it was enough to leave a spatter of scarred skin on his forearm. They both claimed that they hadn't felt anything.  
  
Despite this, the bruises that engulfed Cole's torso were nothing but jarring. They were a dark red, going on purple, covering his chest, stomach, sides, and most prominently, his back. A few were on his shoulders, and many accumulated in between his shoulder blades, and down his spine. They were almost black there. More bruises trailed down his arms as well, fading into a few spots at his wrists.  
  
"These...really don't hurt?" Nya exhaled through gritted teeth.  
  
Cole shook his head no, as he inspected his arms. "I mean, I'm a little sore, but I think that's more from fighting. I'm fine Nya."  
  
"I'll bandage them up, just in case. You're not going to be able to wear your binder for a few days."  
  
She did so slowly. Cole lifted his arms so that she could start from his hips and make her way up. He didn't flinch at all when she grazed the bruises. Even so, she held her breath and was extremely delicate.  
  
The dark, splotchy, patches reminded her of the Oni's cold, invasive smoke. Cole told them he fell in an area that the smoke hadn't filled yet. But he had to get through a thick cloud of it to escape.  
  
How long did he have to struggle through the darkness? Probably not as long as he was cold and completely alone. They had left him. How could he be anything other than terrified?  
  
Her hands trembled as she cut the bandages off at his armpit. She was sure he was more scared than he was letting on. She breathed through her nose, and managed to instruct for him to hold out his arm without saying anything.  
  
Would the bruises ever fade? Kai's scars were raw and red when he first received them, but they had faded into a charred shade of his skin tone. Bruises healed, but Nya knew the internal bleeding had to be deep. They'd serve as eternal reminders of his fall. Her leaving him in horrifying darkness.  
  
"Ow. Ah, that's a little tight Nya."  
  
Her tears suddenly broke free of her restraint, gushing down her cheeks. "I am so, so, _sorry_," she gasped. "_I am, so, so, so, sorry_."  
  
She could barely see Cole through her tears. His eyes were wide. "Oh, uh- you don't have to be sorry! Really, it's not that big of a deal."  
  
"We _left _you," she cried. How was it not a big deal? "I-I should have known th-that the lever was wrong and you fell and we...w-we _left _you and you could have _died_."  
  
"Oh..Nya..."  
  
Her eyes met her hands, shoulders shaking as she wept harder. Cole enveloped her in a hug, muffling her sobs. Her face became tucked into his bandaged chest as they were pressed together.  
  
"I-I keep on..." she slurred out the words and sniffled. "r-rememberming, when it..._happened. _I-I-I should h-have _known_."  
  
"You couldn't have known," Cole said softly. "It's okay."  
  
"Left you," her voice was a harsh whisper. "Y-you were all alone, in the dark, and the cold, and w-w-we _left _you."  
  
"I-it's okay. There's nothing you could have done. I'm here now," Cole's voice cracked.  
  
"_Forgive me._"  
  
"I forgive you. I'm here now. It's okay."


End file.
